


A Little Songbird

by Fan_Galaxy



Category: Original Work
Genre: Gen, both characters technically die so, uhhhh, yeah - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-31
Updated: 2020-03-31
Packaged: 2021-02-28 16:53:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 804
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23410498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fan_Galaxy/pseuds/Fan_Galaxy
Summary: There was once a bird who was harmed by a cruel man, and a kind child who tried to help her heal, but to no avail.The girl, one day, had her own children.The last of her young ones living sang the bird's songs, one she'd never sang.Her little songbird...back in her hands.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 2





	A Little Songbird

**Author's Note:**

> Ok so warning this made me cry rereading this-  
> I actually wrote this a while back, but didn't think to publish it. Either way, here we are!! This thing has a bit of a fairy tale feel to it; it's a fun way to write. Hope you guys like it!

Once upon a time, there was a songbird.

She wasn't particularly pretty. In fact, she was a boring brown with dottings of beige and ugly dull blue feathers along her small wings.

She wasn't majestic by any means, either; she was tiny, and rarely ate anything other than a measly worm or two.

Even so, she sang beautiful songs, no matter who may or may not listen.

The town didn't much notice her, but she wasn't something to be hated, at the least.

One day, however, she saw a sad looking man in the town's peaceful park. Thinking proudly of her own melodies, she landed on a branch above him, letting out a quiet lullaby.

It wasn't long before the man grew enraged, throwing a rock at the tiny being.

She lay there, near death, til a kind young girl collected her and bangaded her wound best she could.

The next day, she tried to sing her songs, but only in vain.

She would carry her grief til she died just a few days later, beak still opening to let her little box of happy chirps flow out, her wings flapping lightly in distress as she failed, yet again. 

And there, she died, wings layed out as if reaching for her missing voice, her beak open. 

From that day onward, the child carried the bird's song with her. She tucked them away in her heart, and played them like a music box only she would ever hear.

The bird may have died that day, but her kindness, her sweet songs, her boring, boring feathers-they stayed in the girl's heart.

As she grew, the small little seed of kindness that those songs brought grew into a mighty oak, something the girl could treasure, and cherish, and tend to over the years.

When her mother died, she stayed by her father's side, no matter how many times the cruel man hurt her, yelled at her, threatened to kill her.

When she was married off to some random young man, she was always polite to him, always did what he asked, even though he would slap her whenever the chance arose.

She cared for her children, an amazing mother who was known for the softness she grew in her children, like the same songs that grew into a mighty oak she tended to, and yet death stole almost all of them away from her.

All except one.

She was a fairly normal child, a normal height, brown eyes and short brown hair.

She was mundane, and normal, all for except she had a beautiful voice.

Only a few weeks after the child had first spoke, she sang a song that sounded exactly like the old ones that bird used to sing, and that's when the mother knew.

She held her daughter close, and sang the songs she vowed not to speak years ago, not until the bird could hear it herself once again.

And now, here she was.

She held her daughter close, and she said, "You and I both know the world is cruel to kind people like us, my little songbird. But if nothing else, I will keep you safe this time."

Years and years passed, and the woman's husband grew more and more vicious. It was near impossible to keep the child away from his sin-covered hands.

One day, when the child was away, meeting the man that would likely become her husband (he was kind, he was sweet, he was the opposite from all the men that had hurt them, and she was so happy her little songbird would get what she deserved) the women's own cruel one slipped a knife into her chest.

The songbird walked into the room, only to find her mother nearly dead.

She smiled weakly. "I told you I'd keep you safe, my little songbird." And then her eyes slipped close, and she told herself yet again what she had known from the day she picked the bird up and tried to heal its wounds. 

'The world is not fair. The world is not kind, no matter how kind you are to it.

But at least I could keep her safe.'

As she watched her mother die-the same sweet, sweet girl who had saved her so long ago-the girl felt the same words echo through her soul.

And so, she carried on the same way her mother had.

She took her mother's kindness and worked to tend it to the mighty oak her mother had done with her own old songs.

She moved on, being kind to everyone around her.

And no matter how unfair the world was, she kept the same soft smile on her face that her mother had.

And she taught her songs to her family, making sure to plant the same seed in them.


End file.
